Leaves and Feathers Fall Together
by BlackRoseGirl666
Summary: A composition of all my PruCan drabble ficts as of yet; to be updated when I have the inspiration and/or the time. The newest drabble as of now: A short Christmas piece focusing on Mathew's (rather somber) holiday thoughts and how his boyfriend managed to sooth them.
1. An Opening

**Absent:**

The years Gilbert was gone were the worst. No one understood it; why for those thirty-something years after the war Mathew looked more zombie than man, but after the first few painfully forced smiles they'd learned not to ask. It was one of the few times Mathew hadn't felt bad about causing someone else discomfort too; after all, they were part of the reason why half of his heart was absent from him, why should he give a shit about theirs?

* * *

**Bones: **

Gilbert could feel it in his bones the second he was no longer a country. What had once been stable and centering within him had disappeared and like a castle without a foundation he'd crumpled to the ground. From there he'd blacked out for a bit and when he'd woken up again he'd been lying in Mathew's bed, the hollowness gone and this _something_ taking its place. It had been neither hot nor cold; neither strange nor familiar; it had just been there. A steadying, continuous something that had filled the aching hole left by his peoples' disbandment. To this day he hadn't asked Mathew what he'd done (because it _had_ to have been something Mathew had done; who else would have given a crap?) and something in his bones told him that was okay.

* * *

**Collectable: **

Ever since the Europeans had first come to his shores Mathew had always felt somewhat owned. The feeling had only been even more reaffirmed when France (England had driven the word _"Papa"_ from his mind permanently early on and France's own behavior stopped Mathew from calling him anything else) had bartered him away to save his own ass. That had been when Mathew had come to the conclusion that colonies were nothing more than pretty knives; to be found, taken and displayed, perhaps used on occasion and maybe thrown away if they became unfixable.

It was with Gilbert that he hadn't felt like a collectable for the first time.

* * *

**Definition:**

Their love had no definition. The others had tried to put words to it, to categorize it ("insane", "fling", and "dangerous" were among the favourites); but Mathew didn't see how it could be done. Definitions were black and white, fitting and most of all, correct. None of that fit their relationship, so why would any definition?

* * *

**Elope: **

"You know, the only way I'm ever going to get a blessing out of those bastards is if they have no say in it."

"You think?"

"Yeah, especially since your brother threatened to nuke me last time I asked."

"Really? Isn't that kind of impossible?"

"Yeah, which is why I'm thinking we should do this before he figures that out and calls West."

"Well, I do know this little chapel…"

* * *

**Fight:**

Anyone who'd ever called Canada a wimp had obviously never seen him fight; as the scars littering Gilbert's body from the infamous Battle of Vimy Ridge and the Hundred Days Offensive could easily attest.

* * *

**Glimpse: **

The first time Gilbert had seen Mathew had been through a gap in the trees during the American Revolution. The man, more of a teenager really, had been hiding in a shooter's nest high up in an ancient silver birch; Gilbert had gotten a flash of lilac eyes and golden hair before a bullet had met him between the eyebrows.

A few days later after the bullet hole had healed and Gilbert had "come back to life", in the way nations did, he solemnly swore that the next time he saw the slight youth it would be for longer than a substandard glimpse.

* * *

**Hell Raiser:**

Say what you will about Mathew being meek and mild-mannered; he could be and absolute hell raiser when he wanted to be.

As he proved when the video tapes of him helping a group of other equally irked hockey fans set fire to a police cruiser was somehow leaked to the UN delegates a couple days after the event, much to Prussia's amusement and several other countries' shock.

* * *

**Ignore: **

It was amazing what people were able to ignore, Mathew thought as he watched Gilbert with Hungary and Austria. Every time they dismissed him or rebuffed him he flickered a little, like a candlestick's flame close to going out. It made Mathew's heart jump into his throat every time and yet Hungary and Austria and even Gilbert acted like it hadn't even happened. He didn't know if it was intentional or if he was just too attuned to watching what others missed but he knew he'd never be able to ignore it like they did.

* * *

**Jinx: **

Prussia had never been regarded as something good; maybe back in the old days, when he was needed to help kick some ass, but typically he was thought of as more of an annoyance or a jinx than he was an aide. Which was why it confused the hell out of him when Mathew had come running up to him, saying how he needed his good luck charm if he was going to win his next hockey game. The confusion had only gotten worse when Mattie had called him "silly" for offering to help him find it before kissing him on the nose and explaining that _Prussia_ was his good luck charm.

* * *

**Kaleidoscope: **

Contrary to popular belief, Mathew didn't get high all that often. Sure, whenever he was with B.C or Netherlands he'd have a hit or two but that was mostly because he _always_ had a hit or two with B.C or Netherlands. Nah, the only time Mathew really smoked just for the high of it was during those particularly harsh winters. The ones that hit him so hard that they robbed him of his ability to see in anything other than black and white and made his lips turn blue for weeks-on-end. During those times Prussia would sometimes come to their semi-kind of-shared house to find Mathew spread out in the den beside the fire, his arms stretched out trying to grasp the kaleidoscope of colours that he hadn't seen in days.

* * *

**Lost: **

They had both lost things in their lives. Prussia had lost his kingdom, his very reason for existence, while Canada had survived on to watch as his lands shifted beyond his original self's recognition. They both knew what it was like to lose their people (Beothuk, the St. Lawrence Iroquois, and other tribes that had died out over the years in Canada's case) and forget pieces of their heritage. It was something neither of them would wish on anyone but it was one of the things that brought them together. Together, it seemed, they could both be a little less lost.

* * *

**Open:**

Whoever said Mathew was an open book was wrong. Mathew, in all of Gilbert's years of battle and making enemies, was probably the best liar he had ever met. Behind those sweet violet eyes was a calculating mind and hardened emotions. His soft, dainty hands had calluses that lined up perfectly with the triggers of the guns he practiced religiously with. His voice, while quiet, could easily carry through a room when he willed it. The weakness, the fear; they were simply defenses bread from years of watching those he cared about being ripped apart by war for being too strong. He was only ever really open around his provinces and maybe three or so other nations.

Prussia was proud to say he was one of them.

* * *

**Monster: **

Prussia sometimes woke screaming late at night; visions of blood clinging to hands for minutes at a time after he woke. It was the blood of his people who he'd failed, the blood of Old Fritz whose legacy he'd tarnished; the blood he'd spilled during the wars. Not on the battle field, you have to understand. There was a difference between being a soldier and being a monster. But the camps, the marches… some days he couldn't even touch Mathew, too scared that he would somehow taint the slight Canadian with his own horribleness. It was only Canada's gentle words that helped remind him he was human too.

After all, Prussia rationalized as he lay half-asleep in the other nation's arms, how could an angel love a monster if the monster didn't have some good in him too?

* * *

**Peace:**

Peace wasn't something they'd had a chance to experience much of in their relationship. Sure, all together the years they'd spent warring against each other were smaller than the ones they'd spent loving each other, but what most didn't understand was that, in wartime, every one year turned into a hundred. So really, they'd spent hundreds of years fighting each other and damn, were they ready for some peacetime.

* * *

**Quiet: **

Gilbert wasn't one for the quiet. Quiet meant he had more time to focus on the static that had replaced the gentle hum of his people; quiet meant he was alone again; quiet meant death.

So wasn't it just so ironic that he fell for the quietest nation of the bunch? One who was showing him how to appreciate the silence one drawn-out kiss at a time.

* * *

**Rouse:**

There wasn't much that could rouse Gilbert from bed when he'd decided it was going to be a bad day. Ludwig had discovered thus after the third day of failing to get his older brother out of said bed. He had also discovered that all it really took was one forgettable blonde and a pile of pancakes.

* * *

**Serenade:**

Mathew laughed in amused happiness as he watched his very own Romeo play him a love song on his flute; the whole thing was made about a billion times sweeter with the knowledge that Prussia hadn't plaid that flute since Fredrick the Great had died all those years ago.

* * *

**Tact: **

Gilbert was not tactful; God knew Fritz had tried to drill it into him but for the life of the old king his lessons had not stuck. To date the most tactless thing he'd ever done was probably when he'd proposed to Mathew, in an underground bunker, during the height of the Cold War, while the blonde had been ranting about how much his brother sucked. The only reason Prussia had even been there was because Mathew had worked out some kind of deal with Russia that let Gilbert leave the psycho-nation for a week at time.

To this day Mathew refused to tell him how he'd gotten the other nation to agree.

But anyway, he'd only had a week to be with Mathew before he was shipped back to Hell for Gott knew how long and, even if he hadn't shown it, he'd been just as worried as Mathew that Canada might get caught up in some kind of nuclear exchange between America and Russia and Mathew had just looked so _beautiful _as he paced and swore; his eyes flickering like lavender fire in the dim light.

Gil didn't know what had come over him. One second he'd been quietly watching his lover of so-long-they'd-stopped-counting and the next the words had been tumbling from his lips.

Mathew had stopped dead in the middle of his pacing and watched on with his lips parted in shock as Gilbert spilled so much romantic verbal barf he was practically drowning in it by the time the violet-eyed nation pressed their lips together with a whispered _"yes."_

Heh, what could he say? He guessed sometimes it paid to be tactless.

* * *

**Universe: **

It was a weird feeling, knowing that your entire universe could be compressed into one person-shaped space, but it was a feeling they wouldn't give up for the world.

* * *

**Violence:**

Violence was something Gilbert had been born and raised on. He had the blood of empires and mortals alike on his hands and he could grin like a bloodthirsty monster with the best of them.

Still, that didn't keep him from wincing and fretting like a fucking mother hen when watched Mathew get checked into the Plexiglas at one of his games and – HOLY SHIT WAS THAT BLOOD!?

* * *

**Winter: **

Winter brought the monsters in Canada's land to life, Prussia thought as the wind shrieked outside the window, bringing to mind some of the horror stories the First Nations representatives had told around the fire earlier that night.

* * *

**Xanax: **

It was a pity it didn't work on Nations, Mathew thought with a smirk as Gilbert started chewing the hell out of his lip in the stand. And to think the game wasn't even half over yet…

* * *

**Yellow:**

Yellow had been Gilbert's favourite colour once upon a time; it was bright, cheery, obnoxious and reminded him of Gilbird. Then he had seen Mathew's eyes and suddenly he'd found himself to be more partial to lavender-violet than anything else.

* * *

**Zone: **

The Friend Zone was a dreaded and horrible place to be in Prussia's book. It was made up of longing glances, awkward pauses and other horrid unmentionables that Gilbert was not accustomed to. Thus why it wasn't much of a surprise when Prussia threw his 'Slowly Woo Canada' plan to the wind and simply kissed the blonde one snowy evening.

Looking down at the now sleeping nation in his arms, Prussia decided that kiss was probably the best decision of his life.

* * *

**Well, I suppose this is what happens when you get a plot bunny that won't leave you be… anyway, I hope you all liked this, seeing as it's my first time writing Hetalia and I'm still trying to get a grip on it, and I hope you'll Review!**

**Also, I'd be happy if you could please check out the poll on my profile? I'd love to know your opinions!**

**Please and Thank-You,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	2. Happy Halloween

Halloween PruCan ABC Drabbles

Autumn:

Mathew grinned as the orangey-yellow leaves outside his bedroom window swirled and fluttered, dancing lazily in the slightly-more-frigid-than-usual breeze. A quiet tapping at the window filled the air and the normally cozy room cooled down a few degrees as Mathew caught the flicker of several different shadows hiding behind the window frame, waiting eagerly to get in. On the bedside table his phone blinked at him, signifying that he had received a few messages earlier in the morning, probably from Mexico and America wanting to know what his plans were for the season; Mexico excitedly and Alfred warily.

On the bed, Gilbert was still out cold; his tall, strong body stretched out across the dark blue sheets and his silvery-white hair covering his closed crimson eyes. Mathew's smile became softer at the sight. He and Prussia, while having dated on and off for a very long time, had only now started living together and Mathew didn't think he'd get tired of seeing his "awesome knight in armour" with such a peaceful look on his face anytime in the near future.

Soon though the tapping became more insistent and Prussia rolled over in response, throwing a pillow over his head with a mumbled 'shut up' before quieting again. Mathew, peaceful scene destroyed, sighed and went over to the window. Throwing it open the blond stepped back as a gust of windy air blew into his and Gilbert's shared bedroom, the spirits and other assorted invisible creatures that insisted on visiting him every October 1rst through November 3rd tagging along with it.

Unlike most nations, Matthew didn't really mind playing host to the visiting supernatural. Having been juggled between caretakers such as the British Isles siblings whenever England was away as well as having his own people's superstitions and beliefs ingrained in him since he was small had given him quite the backbone when it came to the non-normal. Plus, it was nice to have the company.

Humming quietly to himself as he moved, Mathew absently shooed off a group of pixies who'd gathered around Prussia (chatting and gossiping about the strange man they'd never seen before and why his was in Mathew's bed as they left) before heading down the make a breakfast of pumpkin pie pancakes and cider in place of coffee. As he went he gave a casual hello to the assorted members of the usually invisible community who'd decided to drop by, receiving energetic and hurried replies in exchange.

Mathew paused on the stairs and smiled; you could never convince a spirit to stay still for long during autumn; the season was like their crack or something.

Entering the kitchen Mathew wound up spending a good few minutes hunting down the magically moved about ingredients he needed (and deciding to hang up a few iron knickknacks around the house) before spending the rest of the early-ish morning chatting and catching up with a few of the brownies who'd set up camp by the sugar bowl as he cooked.

A shrieking giggle pierced the air, probably caused by one of the ghosts, and Mathew absently wondered if he should inform Prussia of their guests before deciding against it. Gilbert was European after all; he was probably used to some strangeness during the Halloween season, right?

Well, Mathew hoped he was; it was only the first of October and Mexi and Alfred hadn't even arrived yet. Plus the spirits sometimes got a little miffed if someone was let in on their secret without earning it or their say so, thus Mathew couldn't exactly tell Gilbert even if he wanted to...

Mathew stopped stirring the batter as a surprised squawk met his ears from upstairs, followed by a long, growled string of curses in German and some more shrieking giggling. Mathew himself laughed as he started ladling out the batter into a pan; oh, this was going to be one autumn he wasn't ever going to forget, wasn't it?

Boo:

Prussia had always thought of himself as somewhat unshakeable when it came to the modern tradition known as Halloween. After all, he'd fought in horrific wars, lived with Russia for a little under forty years, and survived Francis, England and America's "talk" with him regarding his intentions towards Mathew and what would happen to him if he messed up in anyway once-so-ever; which actually might have been scarier than the other two things combined.

Then again, he'd never actually been _with_ Mathew during Halloween.

It seemed that fate had conspired against the two so that regardless of what they did, they were separated during October to early November. Whether it be because of trivial things (miss-booked flights, annoying family/friends, clashing work schedules) or more serious matters (war, civil unrest, being held captive by insane communists…), it seemed that they could never make a Halloween date work.

And, as Gilbert pressed himself up against the mellow cream walls of the hallway outside of his and Mathew's room, heart pounding in utter terror because, _holy fuck, why was he seeing them again?_He thought for a second that maybe that had been a good thing.

Especially because right now the ghost (he supposed) in question was killing (re-killing?) itself laughing at him. Which was probably because all the thing had said was "boo" and Prussia had nearly made a hole in the ceiling with how high he'd jumped.

Oh yeah, Gilbert thought as the transparent being waltzed through the wall, a trail of snickers fallowing it; his Birdie sure had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

Candy:

Prussia hummed as Mathew wrapped his pale arms around Gilbert's neck, candy wrappers crunching under their weight as the ex-nation pushed the Canadian onto his back, fingers winding their way through Canada's golden locks and cradling his head as Gil lowered him gently onto the black rug that took up most of the living room floor. Their lips met not a second later, hot and sweet against each other's.

It was October 3rd and the couple had been informed early that morning that the rest of North America (i.e. America and Mexico) would be invading their house in less than two days. Since then Canada had spent the entire day cleaning and putting up these strange little iron thingies above the doors of certain rooms, such as the bedrooms (all sixteen of them, one for each Province and Territory plus two spare guest rooms and the master bedroom, which Prussia shared with Canada. It need not be said that Canada's house was a fucking mansion), kitchen and bathrooms.

Prussia, sick of his questions being answered with little mysterious smiles and being generally ignored in favour of the vacuum cleaner and other assorted cleaning products, had plunked himself down to watch the rather obsessive amount of horror movies that had somehow magicked their way into his and Birdie's movie collection and munch on the candy bowl's contents. At around nine that night Canada and decided to join him, worn out and content to just cuddle into Gilbert's side as the dumb blonde on screen got butchered.

Gilbert, though, had decided that he at least deserved _some_ compensation for his not purposely bugging the Canadian during his cleaning spree. Usually this compensation would have been in the form of roping Mathew into helping with his newest set of pranks; but, seeing as America (who already figured Gilbert was a bad influence on his precious brother) and Mexico (who was scary as fuck and only ever seemed to agree with America when it came to his opinion on Gilbert) were arriving in the next forty-eight hours, Gilbert had figured he'd better collect quick.

Besides, Gilbert thought breathlessly as he tracked Mathew's dazed violet eyes with his own, it was getting close to Halloween, and he was in the mood for sweets.

And God knew Mathew was his favourite candy.

Devil's Night:

Gilbert chuckled to himself as he continued pelting America's pristine, (ironically) white house with eggs, numerous rolls of toilet paper pilled at his feet. Now here was a holiday he could get into.

Entrancing:

Prussia watched with his jaw hanging down as Mathew stood before him, nervous and blushing in the get up Hungary had sent for him to wear to the annual nations' costume ball. As a precaution against someone coming as a possibly taboo being (i.e. Jesus, certain historical dictators, nudist colony members –hem, hem, Francis, hem– ect…) a group of the more "trustworthy" nations were put in charge of assigning and/or pre-approving everyone's costumes.

This year, against all odds, the widely-thought-to-be-closet-perverts Hungary and Japan had wound up on the council and, with tactics that reminded everyone just how underhanded the two could be, had somehow managed to boot every other nation off said council; thus putting everyone at risk of their yaoi-crazy minds.

Prussia, luckily, had been spared thus far (Hungary had just mailed him a pair of red devil horns and told him to 'be himself') but he'd heard stories. Horrible stories.

Stories that begged not repeating.

Stories that involved China dressed up as a mermaid with just two little shells to protect his 'breasts' from the ever-roaming hands of the Dread Pirate South Korea. Stories wherein America was once again ordered to don his favourite leather chaps and black velvet cowboy hat and tie up England with his lasso, saloon girl outfit and all.

Stories that involved Mathew, standing before him with his usually pale face stained red, in what Prussia could only describe as a very sexy, _very_ _tight_ lion tamer's outfit; complete with a bright red leather whip and all.

Wait, no. That was happening right now, Prussia's eyes told him. Gilbert was too utterly entranced by how much of Mathew's pale thighs those little red shorts showed off to really care too much about that at the minute, though.

"The note said it was a demon-taming costume," Mathew said quietly, fiddling absently with the pentagram cufflinks on the skin-tight black suede jacket.

Prussia nodded dumbly, suddenly realizing why Lizzie had put a little winkie face at the end of the note she'd sent with the devil horns.

"So…" Mathew said after a few more minutes of silence. "Do you think I should put it on for the dance thing?"

Gilbert took another look at his lover, his mind silently cringing as he thought of any nation but him catching Mathew in such a… _trance-inducing_ outfit. His little Birdie might not catch the looks some of the other nations sent at him, but Gilbert sure as hell did; and he'd more likely step on Old Fritz's grave than let them get their hands on the Canadian when he was fully dressed, let alone in this get-up.

And then, through the angry fog descending on his mind at the mere thought of one of those other fuckers touching his Birdie, Gilbert got an idea.

Gilbert smirked and, seeing as no other plan of action was presenting itself (not that he minded), began to walk cockily up to Mathew, wrapping one strong arm around the other's waste as he pulled the Canadian closer to him.

"Actually," his whispered in Mattie's red-tinted ear while the blond sputtered in his arms, "I thought we could focus on taking it _off_ you." The lustful, fiery kiss Gilbert delivered a second later cut off the Canadian's words as Gilbert deftly maneuvered the pair from their place by the on-suite bathroom door to the bed.

Mathew complied easily with the kiss and what it undoubtedly entailed, wrapping his usually pale, now red and black nylon covered legs around the albino's trim waste and looping his arms around the Prussian's strong shoulders to make moving easier. He barely even noticed when Gilbert applied a little more power than strictly necessary and popped a couple buttons off the slinky, black blouse Mathew had on under the jacket in his efforts to remove it.

Thirty minutes later found Gilbert chuckling to himself as Birdie stared up at him with wanting eyes, his golden curls spread out against the dark blue sheets like a halo and his beautiful body mostly naked with the majority of the slutty costume lying around him in pieces. Oh, this had to have been one of his best plans yet.

And really, if Elizabeta was mad about the costume, it was her own fault. Who in their right mind would put his Birdie in something so entrancing and then expect to get it back in one piece?

Fire:

Mathew smiled softly and leaned back against Prussia's chest as they watched the assorted nations around them, Gilbert's hands playing idly with the halo headband Mathew had wound up wearing as part of his new angle costume. Many of the gathered nations were paired or grouped off, content to lie in the arms of their lovers or family units or best friends as they talked and laughed, exhausted but determined to milk every bit of enjoyment out of the occasion.

Above them the sky was dark and oddly clear for the English countryside, letting the stars twinkle brightly down on them and creating an awe-inspiring backdrop for the smoke and dying flames of the bonfire they all surrounded.

It was October 10th and they were at Arthur's oldest manor, a long-traditional venue for the Nations' Halloween Ball ever since they'd accidentally burned down the last one sometime in the early 1500s.

The place was a solid, mostly stone Elizabethan that probably had more ghosts haunting its halls than the rest of England combined. It was surrounded by a thick forest made up of trees that liked to play tricks on one's imagination by wailing and creaking at odd hours of the morning with just one scraggly, root-infested trail cutting through it that led to the clearing they were all gathered in now.

Most everyone had arrived a few days early, totting a mixture of food, alcohol, luggage, cleaning products, medical supplies, seasonal decorations, fireworks and superstitious knickknacks from all over the world as they all gathered together to prep the old Kirkland place for the ball.

And it really was a ball too. Hosted in the richly refinished Great Hall, one glance at the place made you think of the grand days of Europe's past and, once the nations were done with it, it made the perfect place for a Halloween party for the oldest people in the world.

The only thing that hadn't fit with the classic theme had been the stage set up at one end of the hall. Complete with amps, guitars, drums, a grand piano, a set of state-of-the-art turntables and other instruments from every country attending, it had looked a little strange in the huge, ancient room.

Not that anyone had cared, really. Especially once the people those assorted instruments belonged to got to playing. The night had included genius classical performances that had made Prussia's more cultured side gape in awe and appreciation before it had descended into a rock concert courtesy of England and his brothers.

It had even included a rave-like section hosted by America and Japan themselves; starting with the lights cutting off before strobes in a thousand different colours had taken over the room.

At twelve o'clock though everyone had left the Great Hall in order to fetch blankets and drinks and migrate their way through the dense forest via the fairy-light lit trail to the clearing. There they'd found an un-lit bonfire ready and waiting for them.

It had been a fun night, Prussia thought as Birdie finally gave up the fight against sleep and drifted off, head falling back fully against Gilbert's chest. It had become an unwritten rule among nations that these balls and dances were safe places where they could let down their guard and just be. It was an ancient rule from the days of Rome and the other old nations that the new ones had all accepted with open arms when they'd been introduced to it.

Prussia had used to live for those balls and dances almost as much as he had the glory and craze of battle; treasuring each one as though it was the universe's personal way of saying that he didn't have to be a danger to humankind _all_ the time.

And he still treasured them, but now it was because they meant a chance to hold Mathew close to him and watch the firelight reflect off his face, or because now he knew he'd have someone to hold after the craziness calmed down.

Because now, he thought dreamily as someone tossed a thing of water over the coals to make sure they didn't burn down this venue too, he had someone to keep him warm when the fire went out.

Ghost:

Contrary to popular belief, it was a ghost's choice whether they were seen or not. Most chose to go about their final business quietly, unseen and unnoticed until they saw an opportunity to sort out their issues and get their ticket to Rest in Peace. Other's rattled and moaned and generally made a nuisance of themselves either because they were bored of being quiet and wanted some attention or because they simply liked to be a nuisance. Some were meaner than others, doing things with intent-to-harm and raise havoc. Those were the ones you usually had to look out for.

And for Mathew, that literally meant _look out_ for.

Unlike normal humans, for Mathew it didn't matter what a ghost wanted; he saw them regardless. Just like, regardless of what spells she tried, Mexico could always feel them when they came near her and how Alfred could always hear their voices no matter how hard he clapped his hands over his ears.

They didn't have a concrete reason for why, though they figured it must have had something to do with their near-fading at the hands of Europe during the Era of Exploration, seeing as how their 'gift' had haunted them ever since then (catch the joke in there, eh?), but it was something none of them could escape.

From America's fear of the supernatural (because fuck, how could he fight it if he _could not_ _see it_?) to the way Mexi would tense and jump at strange moments (something was there dammit! She needed to be alert!) to the way Mathew was sometimes caught staring lamely into space (it was like watching a train crash: so horrifying but entrancing all the same); it effected them daily.

No physical thing could put a stop to it, to the things they constantly saw and heard and felt, but for each of them it seemed a certain person could. Like how the eyes Mexico always felt on her skin went away whenever Venezuela came near her, or how the voices Alfred constantly heard finally shut up when he was in the same room as England.

And, like how for the first time in Mathew didn't know how many years, his eyes were allowed a break from watching the dead as they struggled by when Prussia had met him that first time when he had been a French colony.

It seemed that those certain people were blocks for their unusual abilities. A kind of barrier to keep them from being driven crazy.

Prussia had only started to understand this after he'd come back to Mathew's house a few weeks after being dissolved. He'd gone back to Germany to visit his brother once he'd felt strong enough and it had been a good visit, one filled with brotherly love and so on and so forth, but while away he'd noticed… things. People. Ones who were faded and translucent and usually wounded and well, dead-looking in some way.

Understandably, he'd freaked out before telling himself he was seeing things and shutting up about it, seeing as he'd never been particularly fond of nuthouses and he was sure that's where he'd go if he mentioned it. Besides, it had gone away once he was with Mathew again.

It was only now, sitting around the fireplace with the North American siblings as they discussed the year's supernatural experiences, that he got it. The near-fading-equals-seeing-the-dead-thing and the way he couldn't see them when he was with Mattie, he _got it_. And apparently that revelation had somehow endeared him to the other two thirds of North America as he had noticed that America and Mexico didn't glare at him half as much as they used to anymore.

So really, Gilbert thought as he wrapped an arm around Mattie for the first time in the week since America and Mexico had arrived without being glared at; maybe there were some upsides to this whole seeing-ghosts-thing.

Especially if it meant that it was easier for him to be with his Birdie.

Howl:

A howl sounded from the forest outside of Mathew's house and Prussia rolled over in drowsy irritation, wrapping one bare arm across Canada's blanket-covered waist as he settled again. Fucking spirits. So what if it was a fucking full moon? The stupid things could at least have some respect for those who were still living and were trying to catch some sleep, especially seeing as they were currently freeloading at said living's house.

Gilbert growled as an assembly answering howls pierced the air. Goddamn spirits.

Irritating:

Gilbert growled to himself as Alfred shrieked again, ridiculously strong arms crushing the pillow he was half hiding behind as the movie played on. Dear God, no wonder why that British prick was always in such a crabby mood if he was forced to deal with _that_ near twenty-four/seven. Gilbert had only been sucked into the assumedly annual North American Sibling Bonding Time (yes, it was all capitalized, according to America) for a few days and already he was about to lose it.

Sure, Canada's siblings to the south might be nicer to him now that they knew about his ghostly abilities but, while that cut down on the glares and threats of nuclear war if he broke Mattie's heart, it didn't actually make them anymore sane or actually all that much nicer.

Now don't get him wrong, he was used to a bit of family craziness (he lived with an OCD sufferer and an air-headed pasta addict after all, both of whom were often visited by Romano the Bi-polar, Spain, a frying pan wielding she-devil, and her piano-loving lackey), but unusually he had at least until late December before that started up in full force.

Yeah, apparently, that didn't hold true for North America.

He'd asked Matthew about it actually; about why he, Mexico (or 'Mexi' because Gilbert had found out early on that calling her by her human name, Maria, pissed her off) and Alfred didn't just wait for Christmas. He'd gotten a sigh and a muttered answer about the holiday in question being 'too complicated'.

At the strange look in Mathew's eyes, he'd decided to leave that statement well alone.

But back to the original topic.

Currently the siblings and himself were all gathered around the flat screen in Mattie's living room, watching with slightly bored (with the exception of the terrified Alfred) eyes as another victim bit the dust. Mexico was lounging on the carpet and, get this, _sharpening a fucking throwing knife_ as she watched the character get dismembered, only turning away from the screen long enough to give Gilbert a pointed look that read something like this: _that's you, if you fuck up like a think you will, but much, much worse._

Gilbert gulped and wrapped his arms tighter around Mathew, tucking his feet up under his body on the couch just in case the crazy nation decided to go all Chucky on him.

Irritating? Yeah, but that was trumped by something else, Gilbert thought as he watched America squeeze the pillow so hard the fabric disintegrated in his fearful grip.

Terror. Pure and utter terror.

Oh, how the hell was he going to make it until November?

Jack-o-Lantern:

Gilbert had never known carving a pumpkin could be such a violent experience. Sure, he knew it involved knives and shit, but Feliciano usually just drew the faces on before handing them off to Ludwig, who would then de-gut and carve them with such military precision that it was really nothing less than medical.

This, this could be described as a massacre.

Bright orangey guts and shreds of pumpkin flesh flew everywhere as the three nations of North America went at it, a startling array of knives (provided by Mexico, no surprise) spread around them along with black wipe-away markers and a veritable plethora of pumpkins. Halloween music poured from the Mathew's iPod dock like a soundtrack to pumpkin death.

It was unreal.

Gilbert winced as Mathew giggled and grinned in a vaguely Russia-esque way, bringing a knife down with deadly accuracy to crave out the lid of the jack-o-lantern. Perhaps what they said about northern nations was true. They really were all crazy; some were just better at hiding it.

Killer:

A loud screech echoing up from one of the downstairs bedrooms had Gilbert up and running from his and Mattie's room in less than the three seconds it took him to realize that Mathew wasn't in the bed with him. He took the stairs three at a time, thankful for his long legs and decision to not sleep naked the night before, and then jumped the last four steps before hanging a sharp right and running to the room his soldier's ears had tracked the scream to.

Only then, as he skidded to a halt, breathing heavy and panicked heart pounding in his ears, did he catch the laughter.

It was the melodic and addictive laugh that he knew was Mathew's accompanied by a breathless cackle that must have been Mexico's, seeing as America's was far more annoying and loud. Growls and complaints and an "I hate you guys" also flowed out of the room, making Gilbert blink in confusion.

Nudging open the door with his foot Gilbert walked into possibly one of the strangest sights of his life.

Standing in one corner of the room in nothing but a pair of American flag underwear and a white wife beater was Alfred, hair mussed and glasses-less, breathing heavily while holding one of the bedside table lamps like a weapon.

Across from him stood Mattie and Mexico, both dressed in bright orange, blood spattered prison suits with white hockey goalie masks pushed back on top of their heads and red-dripping knives clutched in their hands as they laughed. America, having regained his breath, had started cursing them out.

Gilbert grinned and chuckled a little himself, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the scene in amusement. Obviously he wasn't the only one in the house who was 'killer' at pranking.

Lollipop:

"Mattie," Gilbert singsonged as he wrapped his arms around the smaller nation's waist.

Mathew blushed and continued to try and fill up the candy bowl in peace. "Yes, Gil?"

"Can I have a lick of your lollipop?"

Mathew's eyes went wide and his face preceded go ten different shades of red. "Gilbert! My brother's in the other room!"

Gilbert felt his own eyes go wide at what the other had implied. "No! Not like that! I meant can I have a literal lollipop!"

Canada blinked. "Oh, in that case, sure."

"But you know, if you're that desperate..."

"Just, no, Gil. No."

Make-Up:

"Why are you guys putting on make-up?" The Prussian asked, somewhat more confused than he had been even late last night when Mathew had told him to pack for a trip to Mexico, that same mysterious little smile on his face that Gilbert was starting to hate.

Currently they were all spread out in Mexico's living room, fans on full blast and the twins with their hair pulled back and applying black makeup to their faces. Mexico was in the kitchen, talking to someone in fast paced Spanish on the phone. It was the 27th of October and Gilbert was starting to feel a little worn down by all the crazy that was North America at Halloween.

America rolled his eyes, the white foundation he now had completely covering his face cracking a little.

"First off, it's not make-up. It's face paint." It was said with such seriousness that Gilbert had to roll his eyes. Whoop-di-frickin-doo. "Second of all, it's tradition."

Gilbert quirked an eyebrow and turned to Mattie, who sighed and put down the applicator he been using. Mathew's 'face paint' was a little more advanced that his brother's was. Mathew had also applied thick dark circles around his eyes and his lips were painted black with black stiches curving up his jaws to make it look like he was grinning.

"You know how there's the Nations' Halloween Ball every year at England's?" He asked and Gilbert nodded; they'd been there not even a full two weeks ago. It had been a blast.

"Well, have you ever noticed how, while the event's open to everyone, only the nations making up Europe, Australia and Asia along with me and Al ever really go?" Tilting his head to the side Gilbert frowned and tried to think back, coming up blank when he tried to name another nation Canada had not named.

How strange.

Mathew nodded to himself and took up a new brush, which he then dipped in one of the different clay jars Mexico had set out when they had arrived and started to paint a circle of red around each blackened eye.

"Yeah. That's because most of the South American and some African nations aren't very fond of Europe and so on and so forth. Thus they throw their own bash few days after the European one that's open to anyone from the 'New World' to attend. It's a bit more traditional than European one in that some of the events have been passed down since before Europe even knew we existed."

Gilbert blinked, sensing from the vague sadness in his Birdie's voice that perhaps he was starting to tread on thin ice. "Ah. So then is Mexico just hosting it here or…?"

Mathew's solemn face shifted into a grin. "Nah. Mexi's got a great location scoped out. Though, if you want to come you're going to have to keep your mouth shut about it."

Gilbert frowned. "Why?"

Mathew smiled and picked up a new applicator. After dipping it into yet another jar, he began the delicate process of drawing on a turquoise spider web design spanning across his forehead before dipping down to the bridge of his nose. He did this with his eyes intently focused on a small hand-held mirror even though from the lack of shaking in his hands, Gilbert bet he could have done it with his eyes closed.

"Because the spot's one of the few remaining Incan ruins that no explorer's found yet. Only we nations know about it and we plan to keep it that way." Mathew stopped painting just long enough to turn serious violet eyes in him. "So, do you think you can keep quiet or should we leave you here? This is serious, Prussia."

Gilbert almost flinched at the use of his nation name. The last time Mattie had ever called him that aloud had been when Mathew had called off their relationship at the start of World War II. It was not something he relished in hearing.

Though, considering the situation, Gilbert found himself understanding the need for seriousness. It wasn't often that a nation was able to find something of their ancestors that the humans didn't know about already and when they did, it was something very personal. Like finding your great grandmother's wartime diary, or something. It wasn't something you dealt out willy-nilly.

Gilbert found himself nodding. "Yeah, you can trust me, Birdie."

Mathew's face lightened again and broke out into a beautiful smile. He gracefully pulled himself up from his crouched forward position on the couch and put the mirror and painting utensils down on the coffee table before coming over and placing a sweet kiss on Gilbert's lips, leaving a little smudge of black paint behind when he pulled away.

Both of them ignored America's fake gagging in the background.

"If it's any consolation," Mathew said with a smile, "I would have left you in Canada if I had thought I couldn't trust you with this."

Gilbert grinned and reveled in the warm feeling that sparked in his heart. It always felt so alien when someone, especially someone like Birdie, put their faith in him. What was even more alien was that he was actually starting to enjoy being trusted.

Before, when he was still a nation, it had felt like a heavy burden on his shoulders. Something that would drag him down and make things difficult. Now though, he couldn't help but beam a little when someone told him he was trusted. Maybe it was just a side effect of being so hated for so long but he couldn't help it.

All the same though, he couldn't help but feel a little more tension than he liked in the air. So, doing what he and the other BTT did best, he decided to break it.

"That's great." He said with a cocky grin. "Now are you going to help me with this make up stuff or should I just try and figure it out by myself?"

Mathew giggled lightly at that and opened his mouth to say something before a loud exclamation of "It's not make-up! It's face paint!" cut him off and sent them both into a laughing fit.

Noise:

Gilbert was amazed by the amount of noise the relatively small group of nations could make. The sixteen of them (the twelve South American countries plus Mattie, America, Mexico and himself) had been a loud bunch from the get go, with Gilbert, oddly enough, probably being the quietest.

It had taken them roughly two hours of walking to get to the spot Mexico wanted them to go to and that had been after a rather crazy drive through the city. No one seemed overly worried or winded though and, once they got to the spot, Gilbert had found it worth the blisters.

"Wow, Mexi," America breathed, his voice quiet for the first time since they all met up. "It doesn't even look like anyone's touched it…" Gilbert nodded vaguely in agreement, not bothering to wonder how Alfred would know what an ancient Incan temple would look like untouched, eyes wide and staring. Gilbert himself knew what they looked like due to some drawings Antonio had shown him back in the day and if Gilbert hadn't known any better, he would have thought that they'd gone back in time.

Mexico grinned. "I know right? I was so stoked when I found this place. I knew it would make a perfect venue." Her rich, chocolaty eyes grew sad for a minute. "Plus I think Inca would have liked seeing one of her building's put to good use again."

America and Mathew, oddly, both nodded and America opened his mouth to say something again but was cut off by a girl with dark, almost black hair and copper skin as she threw her arms around both of their shoulders.

"And now that we've established that, how about we get his party started?" She said, her grinning skull make up splitting to show a real smile.

Everyone agreed quickly and in no time at all torches were lit and music had started playing, drowning out the eerie silence of the old temple with cheery music.

And, some hours later while he was dancing to some traditional song a few of the nations who had brought instruments had started performing with Mathew swaying in his arms, Gilbert could almost swear he caught a glimpse of a woman dressed in bright red and gold peeking out from behind a pillar, her face grinning and content.

When he turn back to see if she was still there though, there was nothing; just a stray feather that maybe hadn't been there before and a vague impression of peace that got lost amongst the noise.

October:

Gilbert breathed heavily as he lay on his back with Mathew curled up on him. By general consensus the nations attending the 'New World Festival,' as they had apparently come to call it, had all decided to just crash at the temple for the night, seeing as they were all exhausted and most were some level of drunk. Currently they were all spread out in different areas around the temple, taking turns telling different tribal stories until they crashed.

Looking down at Mathew, his face paint cracked and smeared in some places and in others still perfect as he cuddled up against Gilbert under the stars for the second time in the last few days, Gilbert couldn't help but think that October was suddenly becoming his favourite month.

Prank:

"ALFRED!" The screech could have rocked the house if it had been any higher and, as it was, managed to make the representation of America stop dead in his tracks to the coffeemaker.

Gilbert looked up boredly from his newspaper, eyes peering over the rims of his cherry red reading glasses to show just how typical he thought this was getting.

For the last few days since they'd gotten back from Mexico a prank war had been going on between the North American siblings. According to the three this war was apparently something that had started several Halloweens ago and had become something of a tradition, with the teams switching up every year. This year it was Mattie and Mexi against Alfred.

Alfred looked at Gilbert for some kind of guidance, as though if he gave Gilbert big enough puppy dog eyes the ex-nation might feel inclined to go and try to calm down his furious lover.

Gilbert just shook his head. "Sorry man, I already told you. I'm just a bystander." Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed pranks just as much as the next hell-raiser, but even he had some semblance of self-preservation and right now just about every piece of it he had left was telling him not to get involved.

Alfred gave him a pitiful look before sighing and hightailing it out of the kitchen, coffee forgotten in an attempt to save his pride from whatever Mathew and Mexico's revenge would involve.

Gilbert simply poured himself a cup of said forgotten beverage and pointed his slime covered lover and said lover's slime covered sister in the general direction Alfred had fled before going back to his seat, thankful that this was one prank he was involved in.

Quiet:

Mexico jumped about a foot in the air when she felt something tap her on her shoulder. Whirling around the Mexican beauty prepared herself to deal with whatever creepy entity Mathew had let into his house (God knew why her older brother even allowed them in in the first place) that had decided to play a trick on her.

Mathew just sighed as Mexico turned, knife raised to strike, before realizing just who she was about to bring it down on.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to watch a movie with me, Gilbert and Al." The Canadian said dryly, obviously used to this reaction.

Mexico felt her face go red in embarrassment before nodding. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a second."

Mathew nodded once before walking out of the room silently.

_Silently_. As in without even a shuffle of fabric or the soft tap, tap of his bare feet on the hardwood.

Mexico let her face fall into the palm of her hand. How the fuck did he do that?

Ritual:

Gilbert stared at the cookbook in utter amazement. On the front cover was some old-ish blonde lady standing over a pan of cupcakes made to look like spiders via black food dye and licorice with the tittle written on it in big, bold French. And not even normal French either, which Gilbert could speak, read and write fluently thanks to Francis and Old man Fritz, but in Birdie's funny Canadian-French, which to him was kind of like the pig-Latin of the modern world.

And then there were the diagrams. Holy hell. Whatever happened to nice, easy-to-understand, step by step instructions? This was not step-by-step, nor easy to understand, in his not-so-humble opinion.

Gilbert looked at the book again, and then at the cupcakes he had made. The cupcakes in the book were pretty, fluffy and yummy-looking. His looked like the subject of the next arms race America and some other country got into.

Putting the book down Gilbert checked the time. He still had another good hour before Mathew, Mexico and Alfred got back from the Last Trip to the Mall before Halloween, which was something the North American nations took very seriously if the way they prepared for it like a military raid was anything to go by. He'd been hoping to have the cupcakes done by then.

Gilbert sighed in irritation. Usually he was a pretty decent baker (hanging around Francis, Ludwig, Feli and Antonio will do that to you) but it seemed like this book was out to get him.

Gritting his teeth Gilbert turfed the batch of demon-cakes and started washing out the pan in preparation for another try. He was not going to let these devil deserts beat him! He was Prussia the Fucking Awesome. He was not going to fail!

And well, if he wound up pulling an England and summoning Russia while using the Book of Evil (baking-style) then that was what baseball bats were for, he supposed.

Solemn:

When Gilbert woke up on the morning of October 31rst it was at a time way earlier than what he had expected and it wasn't because of any 'normal' thing.

No ghosts were shrieking or causing (any noticeable) mischief, the pixies were quiet, nothing was howling in the woods, nor was some other (annoying) creature stirring up a ruckus (that he could hear). It was quiet in the house, reminiscent of how the house had used to be quiet before October first, but still somehow different.

There was a kind of heaviness in the air, a sort of pulse that made you bite your tongue before you even thought of speaking. It was both creepy and comforting and reminded Gilbert of how he usually felt in an old cathedral, if a little less strict.

Throwing the blankets off him Gilbert silently got to his feet, muscle memory preventing him from stepping on any of the noisy floorboards as he made his way downstairs.

Once on the ground floor Gilbert found that Birdie was nowhere to be seen and neither were the rest of the North Americans. For some reason though, this didn't surprise him.

Making his way to the kitchen Gilbert found a breakfast of pancakes waiting for him on the counter with a small note lying innocently on top of it, written in Mathew's spidery cursive.

_Dear Gil,_

_In case you woke up before we came back in; Mexico, Alfred and I are out back meditating. Now don't laugh. It's something we've all done together since we all gained out independence and it's our way of saying thank-you to the tribal representation who were here before we were. Halloween isn't just about candy and parties you know; it's also a day to say thank-you to those before you. Sorry if this comes across as snappy but I wanted to make sure you understood._

_Love you and see you soon,_

_Mathew _

Gilbert smiled a little at the note, taking a bite of a warm-ish pancake as he placed the note off to the side. Yeah, he understood alright, though he might not have before he was dissolved. Europe, as a whole, didn't like to linger on death or what happened after it. The majority of nations had lost and taken too many lives for it to be a talk-able subject and most preferred to just move on and focus on the next war or plague or general calamity.

As an ex-nation he couldn't do that though, which was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand he no longer had to deal with living out a new horror every century and on the other, well, he no longer had a people, which was an ever-lasting horror on its own.

Wrapping a few of Mattie's pancakes in a paper towel Gilbert put the rest in the fridge before grabbing his jacket and shoes and slipping out the front door, cooling pancakes in hand. The solemnity in the house would drive him to distraction if he didn't get out soon and the cold air felt good on his lungs as he walked, his thoughts slowly drifting off onto their own nostalgic road.

Trick-or-Treat:

"So," Mathew panted as Gilbert attacked his neck with his mouth, "do I categorize this as a trick or a t- ah, Gil, - treat?"

The Canadian was currently pushed up against his and Gilbert's bedroom wall after having been waylaid on his way out of the bathroom. He'd been getting ready to head out and get a start on the mile-long list of events Alfred had composed for them to do now that the more solemn part of the day was over, only to be restrained and pleasantly assaulted.

Gilbert hummed and kissed him again, hands roaming freely over Mathew's tight jeans and Halloween-themed T-shirt.

Briefly Gilbert pulled away, flashing the blond a wicked smile and whispering a quiet "I'll let you decided" before going back to his previous activities.

Safe to say, Alfred was not exactly please when, ten minutes later, he stormed up to his brother's room to find out what was taking him so long.

Unusually Usual:

"Mattie?"

"Oui, Gil"

"The light bulb in the bathroom's dead."

"So? Change it."

"That's the thing…"

"Yes?"

"I think I've forgotten how."

"…"

"Shut up!"

"So you're trying to tell me that you know how to get a pixie to return the sugar bowl, stop a ghost from howling and convince a brownie to stop matting your hair, but a light bulb eludes you?"

"Just shut up."

Vampire:

Mathew blushed candy-apple red as Prussia leaned in closer to him; the high collar of the albino's silky vampire cape tickling the Canadian's cheek as Gilbert lazily wondered aloud what kind of hickey Mattie would get if Gilbert gave him one while wearing his new semi-permanent vampire fangs.

Mathew simply moaned as Gilbert put his musings to the test and thanked whichever deity responsible that his siblings were in the other room.

Witching Hour:

"Mattie!" Mathew moaned and tried his best to ignore his brother, but the annoyance known as America simply plucked the covers from his twin's tired body, completely ignoring the miffed ex-nation sharing the bed with said twin.

"I just got a call from Sweden. Apparently England was playing with magic again and managed to summon something big and hairy. Or was it big and scary? I don't know, Finland wasn't there to translate, but they've already gathered Norway and Romania and were wondering if we would help. I think we should go lend a hand, what about you?"

Mathew groaned. "Alfred, did you forget that we don't live in Europe or something?"

Alfred chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well; that's the thing. See, Iggy isn't actually allowed to summon anything in Europe anymore, so…"

Mathew moaned again, seeing where his twin was going not because of telepathy, but because of how repetitive the situation was. God, he hated Halloween sometimes.

Xenoglossia:

Mathew looked at his grocery list he'd just jotted down with confusion written all over his face. Now how in the hell? Francis hadn't even known he existed in the medieval period, so how the hell had Mathew just written out an entire list in medieval French?

Reading over her sibling to the far North's shoulder, Mexico clucked her tongue. "Now that's what you get for letting ghosts romp around you house during Halloween." The younger nation said before going off to either finish her packing (very unlikely) or go bug Alfred (very likely).

Having been abandoned to his confusion in the kitchen, Mathew simply shrugged off Mexi's comment before tossing out the useless note and starting another, this on in perfect English.

Nodding to himself Mathew decided to forget about the incident. He was used to strange things, after all. He guessed that would just be another one to add to the list.

Yelp:

"I didn't yelp!"

"Let it go Gil, we all know you totally did."

"Yeah, man. It's okay to admit your weakness every once in a while."

"Hah. This coming from the man who insisted on watching a twelve hour monster movie marathon even though he knew it would give him nightmares, just so he wouldn't look like the wimp he is."

"Just shut up, Mexico."

Zombie:

Gilbert moaned in utter exhaustion as the noon light of November third rained down on him through a crack in the curtains. Rolling over, he let out a hiss as the light landed right in his face and hastily threw up his hands to protect himself from it.

A gentle chuckle had him blinking his eyes blearily in the direction of the door, where he found Mattie standing; a basket of clean laundry in his arms and a peaceful look on his face.

Putting the basket down on a conveniently located arm chair, Birdie stretched and then climbed onto the bed, engulfing Gilbert in a hug and pulling them both down to lie on flat on the soft sheets before placing a hot kiss on Gilbert's lips.

Gilbert, confused by the sudden onslaught of affection though he was, decided to just roll with it and let Birdie do as he wished. What he wished turned out to be a nice little make out session that cured Gilbert's residual drowsiness quite nicely.

"So," the ex-nation asked breathlessly as Mathew pulled away for air, "what was that for?"

Mathew's smile was caught somewhere between beaming and devilish. Gilbert found he quite liked that smile.

"I figured you deserved a prize for putting up with my family's most crazy for a month." He pecked Gilbert again on the lips, his blond curls brushing gently against Gilbert's cheek as he leaned in closer. "And perhaps a little something for surviving all our little quirks as well as you did."

Gilbert gave him a cocky grin. "No problem, Birdie. I – "

Mathew shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Non, Gil. You don't get it. Not many nations are so able to roll with things as you are. Especially that little trip to Mexico. Did you know Arthur actually said he wouldn't speak of it the last time we brought up our past nations with him? And that's not even acknowledging the cold look Francis got on his face."

Mathew sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that you just proved just how lucky I was to find you this month." Mathew smiled then. "And hell, maybe Alfred will stop mailing you those nuclear bomb progress updates now, eh?"

With a last kiss on the cheek Mathew easily loped off the bed and took up his laundry basket.

"Now, I've got to go put these away in the hall closest then I'll get started on lunch – yes, you did sleep past breakfast and yes, Alfred and Mexi are long gone, along with most of the ghosts and such." Mathew looked up at him. "Does that sound good to you?"

Gilbert nodded, not even mentioning how all he really wanted to do right then was roll over and fall asleep with Mathew in his arms.

The blond grinned. "Well then, I suppose I'll see you downstairs," he said before popping out the door, grin still on his face.

Gilbert himself smiled as he ran a hand over his hair. Pulling himself up from the bed he decided to grab a shower and some clean clothes before going down to lunch. After all, even if he felt like the walking dead it didn't mean he should look like one.

His smile turned gentler; his Birdie obviously thought him better than that and Gilbert was determined to prove the beautiful blond right; come hell, high-water, or Halloween.

*Looks up* I did not mean to write that much… how…? I don't even know. Anyway, thanks for reading every one! This was very fun to write and I hope you all like it, Happy Halloween!

Also yes, this update means _Leaves and Feathers Fall Together_ is no longer a lonely little oneshot, but rather a dumping spot for all my PruCan drabbles! So, in the spirit of this, if you do decided to review (which I very much hope you will!) feel free to give me suggestions! (Particularly if the word starts with Z, X, Y, K or O).

Anyway, peace out!

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666


	3. Merry Christmas

Canada had experienced a lot of Christmases over his 140-odd years of recognized existence. He'd done the traditional Catholic thing since day one of being claimed by France, and he'd even stuck with it for a few more decades when he realized that doing pretty much anything French or Catholic was a safe way to get back at England for being a forgetful, favoring bastard.

Eventually he'd had to settle that down to a lesser degree, though; after all, it was hard to do anything too Catholic or too 'boastful' (read: fun) when your closest companion was basically a dumping ground for all the people too strictly religious for England himself to handle. Of course, that's not to say he didn't feel like his heart had been ripped out of his chest when Alfred had stomped onto his doorstep, boldly declaring that if Canada wasn't with him, he was against him one snowy afternoon.

That had led to a string of dark, dingy Christmases that Mathew wouldn't likely ever really forget; if only because he spent so many of them comforting the younger colonies while England was in a drunken rage or keeping that drunken rage from getting too out of hand.

It was hard to when every time England came to meeting stinking like a pub at least half of the commonwealth younger than Mathew sent him cautious, knowing looks.

After the revolution Canada had pretty much taken up near-permanent residence in London; partly because Arthur's paranoia had sky-rocketed and partly because Mathew hadn't really wanted to go back to his snowy, lonely home where he'd have to put up with the knowing that his twin probably hated him and he was mostly alone.

Not exactly the best inspirations for Christmas cheer, but he'd managed; if only because of what was at home and teaching Koaru to sing French carols and Emma to make tree-shaped cookies was a lot more fun than that.

And then, just because things hadn't been fucked up enough, 1812 had happened and Mathew had gotten his first taste of the holidays while at war.

Granted, most might not think 1812 a particularly 'big' war. Certainly not as big as his brother's 'War for Freedom' or later, his anything-but-civil war, but it had been Mathew's first real taste of horror and it would always be something that stung.

He'd spent the Christmases of those years either high on pain meds due to the attack on York, fighting or getting blindingly drunk alongside Arthur.

Mathew blinked idly in the dark light of his bedroom; a languid, almost self-deprecating smile curling the edges of his lips. Thinking back, it seemed that he had spent an unreasonable amount of his holidays trying to get blitzed; particularly during his brief cowboy days with Maria and Alfred, the 1920s and that gap of years between the world wars.

He rolled his violet eyes in the dark. What a pity.

Mathew ran his thin, chilled fingers through his bedmate's silvery hair; blatantly admiring how the silky strands shimmered silver in the moonlight. And to think, it was during that seemingly-brief span of years between WWI and WWII that he'd first met Gilbert.

It had been at some relationship-building dance thing that forced nation representatives to get together under the excuse of holiday cheer and air clearing, but was really more of reason to get drunk and hook up with someone from a different continent. Gilbert had been dressed sharply in military wear and Mathew had seceded to France after months of the older nation's begging and worn some fashionable, no-doubt-expensive, French ensemble straight from Paris.

Mathew had been bored and a little antsy, though thank god his hands hadn't started shaking yet as they'd been prone to back then. He'd gone out on one of the white-painted balconies to light a cigarette when Gilbert had snuck up behind him, whispering things about mistletoe and lonely holidays and how he'd wanted Mathew since he'd seen him bloody and determined at Vimy Ridge in the younger representation's ear.

Mathew remembered laughing and telling him to fuck off.

He wasn't sure what had happened after that, but it had been the birth of something worth fighting for.

Mathew sighed softly, the tips of his semi-calloused fingers tracing the intricacies of the ex-nation's features. It was habit he'd picked up when Ivan had finally stopped puppy-guarding the other nation and let Canada take him away for weeks at a time; after Canada had offered up something the other nation couldn't refuse.

Gilbert would be furious if he'd understood what Mathew had done; if he even understood it at all. Which, Mathew thought, maybe a little proudly, there was a pretty good chance he would. Gilbert was very open-minded when it came to magic after all; especially after using it himself way back in his past.

Gilbert moaned a little as Mathew's fingers drifted down his chest, ghosting over a section of a twisted scar that ran from the ex-nation's upper right shoulder to his lower left hip. Oddly expressive, wild garnet eyes glowed ethereally in the cold winter moonlight of early December 25th, thus far one of his best Christmases yet.

"Why you 'wake, Birdie?" Gilbert slurred, his one arm coming to encircle the other nation as he snuggled Canada closer.

Mathew smiled softly, enjoying the physical contact with the man who'd somehow managed to steal his carefully hidden heart. "Nothing. Just thinking."

Gil hummed in a somewhat disapproving way and began to gently message the small of Mathew's bear back. "Don't. Too much thinking's no good. Just look at West."

Mathew laughed softly and Gilbert smiled in his half-sleeping state. "I guess you're right," the Canadian murmured.

" 'Course I am," Gilbert yawned, adjusting the sheets to better cover the both of them, "I'm too awesome not to be."

"Of course," Canada agreed softly, wrapping his fingers with Gilbert's closest hand beneath the covers.

There was a second of silence and Mathew decided to fill it for once. "I love you, Gil."

Gilbert cracked on sleepy eye open, giving Mathew one of his rare, searching looks before his face broke out into an even rarer smile. He drew Canada just about as close as he comfortably could before placing a collection of soft butterfly kisses across the troubled nation's brow.

"Und Ich liebe dich mehr," Gilbert whispered, "no matter what those thoughts of yours might be saying."

Mathew smiled against his will, a bright red blush settling against his cheeks at being read so easily while his heart soared for the very same reason. Once upon a time no one had ever actually known him well enough to be able to read him accurately; even Alfred, his much loved brother, still had issues with it.

To know that someone out there had taken the time to learn him well enough to be able to do that while half-asleep for the sole purpose of comforting him… it was enough to make the attention-starved nation reach cloud nine for days.

Gilbert smiled again and closed his eyes. "Try and get some more sleep, Birdie. Santa won't come if you don't."

Mathew shook his head slightly at his lover's antics but settled down all the same content to drift off in Gilbert's arms, the memories of his past Christmas misfires far behind him.

Gilbert, finally feeling Mathew relaxes in his hold, let out a sigh of his own and focused on slowing down his own breathing. After all, they were expecting not just Mathew's family tomarrow, but also his different provincial and territorial representations (who all had the habit of referring to Mathew as 'Dad' and Maria and Alfred as aunt and uncle. Gilbert it seemed hadn't gotten past the annoying boyfriend stage yet) as well as Arthur and Francis.

Safe to say, it was going to be a long day.

"Nighty-night, Vögelchen, and Merry Christmas, too."

* * *

**And Merry Christmas/Whatever-else-I'm-to-tired-to-list to you my lovely readers as well! Hope you enjoyed this and if so, please drop a review!**


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